Little Miss Hellhound (nanowrimo2022)

Chapter 3

The sewer tunnel narrowed the moment I turned left. Right where they said to do so, turn left at the first intersection. But it narrows so much I have to keep my head down and bend my legs a little to get through. If I were still a woman, I'd get major claustrophobia climbing through a place like this. It's barely got any light and goes on so long. But I'm a bit smaller than that, now. This doesn't seem so bad. Just uncomfortable. At least the tube is dry. I don't know how much crawling through trash I can take. Last I checked, I left the dogs to their haul. Not sure if it was smart to leave them alone with it. Should've told them to save some for later, but I'm sure they'll realize they couldn't possibly eat everything we took. Maybe I also should've fought harder to get them to a shelter. That alpha, I mean Captain's, gums didn't look so good. I don't even own a dog, but I don't need Kim to tell me that's not how they're supposed to look. I actually hope they turn out fine. Would be a shame to go through all that mess and destroy that bar just for them to keel over on the side of the freeway. I wish them the best.

The tube finally showed some light. A way to crawl out. Any ordinary dog couldn't use a ladder, even if it was just a skinny tube. But I know what to do. I propped myself up the ladder, letting my back slide along the concrete walls of the tube as I slowly pulled myself up, rung by rung, with my teeth. It wasn't the most elegant climb, but I wasn't good at climbing when I had hands and feet, anyway. I felt kind of clever again figuring out how to climb it. When I got to the top, I effortlessly pushed the manhole cover over and wiggled myself to the surface. Perfect. I emerged next to a chain-link fence. Under it was another parking garage, this time with a path and a concrete path leading outside on both sides: a bus stop. Thankfully there was no one here to see me. The clock on the opposite wall said three-thirty. The sun was still high in the sky and there were no buses. To the left was the station itself, a modest sized building bordering a few lines of tracks on an uncovered platform. Everyone would wait inside with this heat. To the right were freshly painted tan office buildings, no one walking outside and much of their view blocked by the parking garage. I put the manhole cover back on (still congratulating myself for figuring out how to climb a fricken ladder as a dog). I just had to listen for the next announcement. It didn't matter where the train went. As long as it left this place.

Attention. Train number six, zero, one, is now arriving. Train number six, nine, six, arriving in: thirty, two minutes. Train number seven, six, seven, arriving in: sixty, seven minutes.

The automated announcer gave me all I needed. I wasn't going to make 601, but the other two were doable. Trains are always late. The gushing sound of a fountain echoed throughout the garage. I walked out the left side, towards the office buildings, and found the sound coming from its front entrance. A modest fountain with no one around sprayed water a dozen or so feet in the air. Fountains are very expensive in Cali. I don't think this business will last long. But at least the fountain's on. I walked across the sidewalk (also absent of people) and hopped into the fountain. The water was freezing, but I needed it. I scratched and rolled against the bottom of the fountain, feeling all the dirt and bits of garbage finally fall off. It felt good to be clean. I hopped out as quick as I hopped in, no more than a couple minutes, shaking water everywhere (would've been fun to have people around, actually). That water is just too cold. And if I can't smell myself anymore, neither can people. Walking back towards the train station, I saw an old couple dropped off near the entrance. They were being escorted by a man carrying their bags, and they were walking a modest-sized beagle. It looked like one of those dog show animals. Perfect coat, no wrinkles, always well mannered. Their servant or whatever walked inside the train station. The old couple (who looked lost) followed, but not before clipping their beagle to a bike rack outside. I ran across the street; she saw me and freaked out a bit, but began wagging her tail when I poked my head from the bushes I hid in. The walls were almost entirely glass, so it was easy to see when her owners would come out.